5/22/17 -- Mile 1023 -- Harper's Ferry, WV Dear Andrew, I have walked over a thousand miles and I think I have learned one, two, or perhaps even three things from the surprisingly glorious state of Virginia. 541 miles and one month of walking later, I have a new appreciation for the state that I used to just think of as Maryland's less sophisticated cousin. Here's what Virginia taught me, and it's best if you read this while listening to that one song about West Virginia that I've heard three different hikers singing since we crossed the state border. 1. Beggars cannot be choosers when hitchhiking in the rain. I hitched into the town of Buena Vista to get groceries (at a gas station) with a truck driver who had removed his passenger seat. I crouched on the floor dripping wet while he mumbled in a nearly unintelligible southern accent about how crazy I was for walking so much. I told him he was the crazy one for driving so much. Buena Vista did not have any good views but they did have a Hardee's, which is the same thing to me. 2. It is surprisingly easy to have the stomach flu in the woods. You can throw up most places, no problem! Say goodbye to the pesky problem of staying in close proximity to a bathroom and just continue to hike all day while floating in a hazy fever dream. Sure, the "smart thing" is probably to go into town to get medicine and become a person again, but the cool stubborn thing is to KEEP HIKING. 3. Virginia is not flat, whoever tells you that is a dirty liar. I guess people probably aren't telling you that very often, but if anyone ever does, you can tell them that your sister would like to have a few stern words with them. 4. Shenandoah is a magical idyllic wonderland filled with trailside restaurants and the well-maintained beauty of national park land. Just about every day of the 100 miles I was able to hike a short distance off the trail to go to a "Wayside" -- overpriced little diners and camp stores serving real human food to real human people. The food was mediocre grill food by any real culinary standard, which of course meant that it was five-star dining after hiking 20-plus mile days. 5. Eating a 24-ounce can of beans in one sitting earns you a surprising amount of respect from your fellow hikers. Sure, there were a lot of juvenile farting jokes thrown around. But as I slowly consumed every last brown-sugar soaked bean in that absurdly oversized can, the congratulations began to roll in. What did everyone eat at the next camp store? Beans Lobo Style (straight out of the can while crouched on the ground in the corner near the trash). 6. Old retired men love to do section-hikes in Virginia and ask you about your boyfriend and your father. The conversations might be stilted with painfully outdated gendered assumptions that they'll never understand, but the good part is that I hike fast enough to never see most of them again. 7. Hiking an Ultra Marathon makes you feel like an Ultra Human (until the pain). I learned about Ultra marathons from my friend Ultra, a soon-to-be grandfather who has the body of a minor Greek God and the beer drinking habits of a college freshman. He runs ultra marathons, which are events like 100 mile races (his record is 19 hours) or six marathons in six consecutive days in six different states, which he will be doing a few weeks after he finishes the trail. Technically, anything over 26.2 miles is a marathon, which he told us at the end of a 28.5 mile day through Shenandoah. I had never felt more alive, until the next morning of delightfully excruciating foot pain. 8. My feet are now so swollen that there are no women's sizes that fit me. But luckily men's shoes have tough masculine colors like red and black and the sales people treat you like a scientific anomaly for having this height-to-foot-size ratio. Look at that, I learned an entire eight things, way above my earlier estimate! I'm now past the 1000 mile mark and can't quite believe it. I am thrilled to be moving into the northern states, including the 42 miles of our beloved homeland. Pretty messed up to think about how I flew to Georgia over two months ago and have now WALKED back. I can't imagine a future in which I won't be walking all day, every day. Maybe there isn't one, who knows?! All I can say with any confidence is that for now I'll keep on walking. Love, Laura
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LettersThese are the letters that Laura has sent her brother over the course of her hike. They are faithfully and painstakingly transcribed in their entirety. They are meant to keep people updated on how many facts she has learned about trees. Archives
July 2017
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